


Vows

by wildwinterwitch



Series: Cloisters [6]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwinterwitch/pseuds/wildwinterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After "Resistance", Rose and the Doctor try to come to terms with what has happened. It includes some painful decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> The line at the beginning of each part is from a poem by Ezra Pound. wishiknewwho over at LJ prompted me with the four lines.

And the days are not full enough

 

Part 1

When we stepped out of the TARDIS and into the glare of Ruulim summer, I was disoriented for a moment. It looked at first as if we hadn’t travelled at all; Lufana and San Girolamo were very similar in some aspects. I stiffened in shock, half-expecting a thicket of rifles pointed at us and “Hands up” barked out in German. Instead, a tram passed us, squeaking a little as it negotiated the points. People on bicycles zoomed past us and the Doctor drew me closer to him.

“We’re home,” he said, his voice laced with relief and awe.

I remained motionless.

Home.

“We don’t have a home here,” I pointed out, my tongue outsmarting my heart. I closed my eyes. The damage was done, the words were out and hung between us, fat and sticky like the resin of the trees in the park outside Sho.

Sho wasn’t ours any more, hadn’t been for a while. If anything, we’d only be guests in Lufana. If we’d even be that, considering what we’d come here to do.

“Yes, well,” the Doctor stammered.

I froze. My words had really cut through him. I wish I could take them back, but I also felt that he needed to stop running. He needed to look back.

He didn’t take my hand as we made our way to the forbidding, but blissfully shady front door of Pagao House. He didn’t offer me the comfort of his hand, so, as a peace offering I claimed it. This wasn’t going to be easy, and he needed every bit of support he could get. Things had gone very badly, but I still loved him with a fierceness that took my breath away. It was just that I wanted him, needed him, to stop and mourn. I needed the break, I needed to face Fenia and Tayar and tell them what had happened. Maybe this was about forgiveness, but whether it was theirs to give or mine, I didn’t know.

The Doctor glanced briefly at our hands and, after several heartbeats, tightened his grip and brushed his thumb over mine. I patted the gentle bulge in my bag to make sure that Yoru’s letters were still there.

He lifted the heavy knocker and we heard the thud echo through the hall and cloister as it connected with the door. He tightened his grip around my hand again. He had decided not to travel in time when we returned to Lufana; we had been away for eight weeks, and he didn’t want to gloss that fact over.

Fenia opened the door, and her initial smile at seeing us died when she saw our expressions — and the lack of my bump. “Ruulmira,” she gasped, stepping aside to let us enter. She was ghostly pale as the Doctor enclosed her in his arms. She returned the embrace at once, holding him, and I was amazed to see that his shoulders began to tremble, and then his sobs shook his whole body. I covered my mouth with my hand. I hadn’t expected such a strong reaction from him, and I understood that he had been afraid of breaking down like this. How could I have missed that? I felt as if I didn’t know him at all, and the realisation that he fell apart in Fenia’s arms instead of mine stung.

Tayar joined us then. It must be the weekend; I hadn’t really paid attention to what day it was. We’d been so wrapped up in making sure that we returned in real time that we hadn’t paid attention to the day of the week. He looked quizzically from the Time Lord sobbing in his wife’s arms to me. I stood frozen to the spot, choking on the lump that had formed in my throat.

“Rose?” he asked, calm as ever, but it belied his tension. It had been eight weeks since we’d taken his brother-in-law out for a spin in the TARDIS. They must have known something had happened. It might have been cruel of us to leave them in the dark and return so late, but we both figured that they needed the time to prepare themselves for the news. I wished then we’d gone back only two days after we’d left. But everything that had led up to losing Yoru, and his loss itself, might have been even more difficult to grasp.

“Rose? What happened?” Tayar’s eyes dropped to my flat stomach. “No. Oh no.”

My eyes remained dry. My inability to cry over my loss must have made me seem callous to Tayar, but I was hardly able to breathe as my throat constricted. I made a helpless gesture, and I was close to hyperventilating as I tried to reassure him how sorry I was.

Before I knew it, quiet, gentle Tayar was holding me. “I’m so sorry,” I gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he. Yoru?” he asked, rubbing my back in soothing circles. “Breathe, Rose. Easy, take it easy. Breathe with me.”

“Yes!” I blurted, so glad to have the burden off my shoulders. “I... He... There was nothing... It’s all my fault.” I gasped for air like a drowning person, unable to calm myself. I had no idea if my words were intelligible at all, or if all he heard were hiccups.

Tayar shuddered against me and cupped the back of my head with his big hand. “Calm down, Rose. It’s all right. I’ve got you. Breathe slowly.”

I tried to concentrate on the rise and fall of his chest, trying to sync my own breathing with his. I’d shut out the rest of the world completely, including the Doctor and Fenia.

-:-

Kitallun was the quietest time of day in Lufana. When we arrived and disrupted the peace that had settled upon Pagao, Tom and Ani were asleep. Tayar had steered me into the kitchen where he’d made me a cup of maklak. I had no idea where Fenia and the Doctor were, and I felt that enquiring after them would only intrude upon the time they needed to calm down and come to terms with our news.

“I don’t know what to say. Losing him must be terrible,” Tayar said, sitting at the kitchen table facing me. His gaze rested on my flat stomach.

I dropped my hand there, reminding myself, once more, that the gesture wasn’t necessary any more. I clung to the hot mug instead. “Yoru died protecting the baby and me,” I said softly, finally able to talk around the lump in my throat.

He smiled wanly. “That sounds like Yoru.”

I began to tell him of the events that had led to the shoot-out on the square, and he listened intently, taking in every detail, making mental note of the questions he wanted to ask when I was done.

Tayar sat very still when I had finished. I remembered the packet of letters in my bag then and took it out, placing it between us on the table, not unlike in the gaol scenes of some films I’d seen. Only now the convict was passing on something to his visitor. “Yoru wrote letters to Fenia. He asked me to keep them safe for him. They might answer some of the questions you have.”

“Yes, but they are for Fenia, aren’t they.”

I nodded. “Ask me. Please.”

Tayar sighed. “I have several questions for the Doctor,” he said eventually. “But you might answer me this: Where’s Yoru’s body?”

I swallowed hard. I hadn’t expected him to let me off the hook so easily. Yoru had died because of me. How could he just ask after Yoru’s body? “In the TARDIS. We thought you might want to bury him... or honour him here. Whatever it is you do.”

“Yes, thank you,” he said. “Tell me about the baby.”

My eyes flew up to him. “What?”

“Your baby.”

The lump settled in my throat again. Why did he do that? Was it his way of making me pay? I took a deep breath. I deserved it. “It was a boy. A perfect little baby boy. We called him Jonah. He was born in a church, after the shooting. I’d lost too much blood. I gave birth to him, and then he died. He was just... big enough to fit in the cup of my hands,” I said, cupping my hands to show him. I stared at my empty hands.

“Where is he now?”

“TARDIS, with Yoru,” I said. We hadn’t made a decision about what we wanted to do with his body.

“I’m sorry, Rose. All I wanted to know was his name,” Tayar said gently, taking my hands. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Yoru loved you. And I’m sure you would have been an amazing Mum to Jonah.”

I spluttered, but still no tears came. I clamped my hand firmly over my mouth as I felt the contents of my stomach churn. I hadn’t had much to eat that day. My chest ached as I threw up in the sink.

-:-

Tayar put me in Pagao’s guest room. It was kitallun, and I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept much the previous night, and my injury reminded me of just how weak I still was. I had no memory of undressing before I lay down with the thin sheet draped over me. Sleep must have come swiftly, and it was little wonder, I was fatigued.

When I awoke, the Doctor was kneeling at the foot end of the bed, fully dressed, watching over my sleep, his teeth worrying his thumb. He looked pale.

“Doctor?” I mumbled holding my hand out, not for him to pull me towards him but for him to join me. He took it, almost like a cornered animal, and stretched out beside me. “I gave Tayar the letters,” I said, drawing his hand towards my chest.

“I know,” he whispered. His eyes were wide and bloodshot.

“Doctor?”

“Fenia doesn’t want to see me for a while,” he said.

I blinked.

“She told me to leave once I’ve told you,” he explained.

“What?”

“I’ll bring Yoru’s body here and then I am to stay away from Pagao.”

“She can’t do that!” I breathed. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, Rose. Don’t. You need to rest.”

“What? Are you... You can’t be serious...” Was he leaving me behind because our best friend told us so? We needed each other.

“You need your rest, Rose,” he said firmly, sitting up. He put a restraining hand on my shoulder when I tried to sit up too. “It’s quite sensible, really. Plus, I can’t take you where I’m going.”

“You are joking,” I gasped. “Can’t take me where you’re going?”

He nodded gravely.

“In case you’ve forgotten,” I reminded him, “I’ve already lost our child. I’m not going to lose you too.”

He winced and ducked his head at my harsh words. They had been cruel, I was well aware of that, but I needed to spell things out to cope with the concept behind them. “I’m sorry, Doctor, I... I wasn’t thinking. Please, let me go with you.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I need to do this by myself, and Fenia is right.”

“What did she tell you?” I was still amazed by how gentle and understanding Tayar had been. And then I understood. It wasn’t because he was Tayar, not entirely, anyway. I knew Fenia. I had lost my baby and my best friend. She made the Doctor responsible for her and for my loss. It wasn’t fair. Nothing of what had happened was entirely the Doctor’s fault.

“She wants to meet Giorgia.”

“Tell me you aren’t taking her back to 1944,” I said.

“I’m not. She wants me to bring Giorgia here,” he said.

“But she made it unequivocally clear that she doesn’t want to leave Earth,” I pointed out.

The Doctor sighed. “If you come with me, Giorgia will come because I’ve told her that the two of you have become close friends. Fenia reasons that it’s not right to leave behind a good friend of yours and her future sister-in-law,” the Doctor explained. “She does have a point, you know.”

“But—”

“Giorgia doesn’t have to stay. All Fenia wants is for them to meet, but she won’t leave the planet.”

“And Fenia wants you to convince Giorgia,” I said, understanding. I must admit, it was surprising, but I could also understand where Fenia was coming from.

I got up, startling the Doctor. “Let me talk to her. Where is she?”

Without waiting for his answer I hurried outside in my underwear, finding Fenia and Tayar in the loggia. Fenia looked exhausted from crying; her eyes were puffy, and she clung to Tayar as if for dear life. She broke my heart and I almost didn’t make it to the sofa on which they had settled, but I plucked up all my courage and approached them.

“Rose,” Fenia said, her gaze settling on my stomach.

“It isn’t all the Doctor’s fault,” I said without preamble.

Her eyes met mine. “Isn’t it?”

I closed my eyes and knew I had lost.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said.

My gaze dropped to the opened letters.

“I want to meet Giorgia,” she said. “I cannot go to her, so she has to come to me. I hope you understand that. And I don’t want her to do you a favour.”

“I know.”

“Please, Rose. Let him go,” she said.

I felt faint. “It’s he who wants to go, isn’t it,” I said flatly.

Fenia bit her lip.

“How could you?” I asked bitterly.

“Rose,” Tayar said, raising.

“I can’t stay here,” I said softly. But the thing was I had nowhere to go. Sho belonged to Yoru — I couldn’t stay there. I didn’t have Mum’s flat any more. The only place I could think of was London in my own time. A nice place.

“Rose?” The Doctor’s soft voice made me turn around. I stared at him, wanting him to see how betrayed I felt.

“Take me home,” I said. “London, my time.”

He blanched. “What?”

“I can’t stay here.”

“No, Rose!” Fenia protested.

My temper flared. “You didn’t seriously think I’d stay here, did you? Do you have any idea of how I feel? You’ve lost your brother. But I’ve lost my best friend and my baby. And possibly my husband too. And now you tell me sweet little lies to make me stay instead of asking me?” I cried. I must have woken the children, but I was beyond caring. I was shaking with rage.

“Rose.”

I slapped the Doctor. Hard. Fenia gasped as the sound of my hand hitting his cheek resounded in the loggia. “Take me home. Now.”


	2. Part 2

And the nights are not full enough

Part 2

He insisted on putting me up in a cottage on the wild Northumberland coast, just to make sure that I was safe. I let him. He had found it for me, among other hideaways, after I’d changed my mind about wanting to stay in London. I needed to be by myself. The city would only remind me of Mum and Mickey and everything I’d lost, and have me wondering if I’d run into a blue phone box if I turned the next corner.

The Doctor’s face had turned to stone as he stepped out onto the gravel path leading to the parking lot through a well-kept garden. He swiped at his cheek with a vicious gesture, and I realised he was crying as he left. I tightened the hold I had on myself as I leaned against the door frame and watched him walk away.

I didn’t really want him to go. I wanted to hole up with him here, but I knew that he had to go back for Giorgia. Leaving her behind had felt wrong on so many levels, but neither of us had been in any shape to protest and insist that she come with us.

“Doctor!” I cried at the very last moment, but the stiff, salty breeze stole the words from my lips and carried them away.

He stopped and looked back at me, but all he did then was shrug helplessly. He turned and went on towards the TARDIS, where it was hidden behind the shrubbery. I heard her wheezing as she dematerialised, but the sound was faint beneath the rushing in my ears and the wind. I bit my lip and returned inside, where a fire was beginning to warm the parlour in the uncharacteristically cold August.

I should have been selfish and insisted that he stay. The truth was that Lufana was our home, no matter what I’d said when we returned there. But it would only be our home again when we made peace with what had happened, and we both felt that we owed Fenia the chance to talk to her late brother’s bride. I drove him away so he didn’t have to choose — he’d have chosen to stay with me and beaten himself up over denying Fenia that opportunity. He’d have burnt all our bridges in Lufana. For me. I couldn’t allow that. The Doctor had become a different man since we first arrived on Ruul. There was no more of the anger, the blood, the revenge.

I should have gone with him, but he was right. He needed Giorgia to come because he asked her to. She’d have come on my behalf, I knew that. But he also needed me, so much, and I was afraid of who he’d become. But it was only that one little trip, wasn’t it? He’d made sure I was safely tucked away in the cottage.

There was a lighthouse further up the beach, and the ruin of a castle a little further down, and the village beyond that. I had a little car so I could travel if I needed to. I wondered if I’d ever go anywhere but the supermarket.

-:-

The nights had been cold and empty without him by my side, a painful reminder of the nights I had spent without him in the villa. I slept fitfully and woke several times with his name on my lips. I had no idea if I had screamed or whispered it. The room was very quiet and never gave my desires away. I lay in the stillness then; the wind had settled and I realised how isolated I was out here.

The second full day of my stay at the cottage, I booked a plane ticket to Florence.

The Internet wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information on the resistance cells in the Chianti Hills, and I was going stir-crazy. I had recovered well, physically, but I felt restless, and I needed some answers.

So, on the afternoon of my third day away from the Doctor, I threw my small bag into the car I had hired at Florence Peretola Airport, programmed the SatNav and drove off towards San Girolamo.

Seeing the place again over sixty years after the war had ended would be strange, particularly since it had only been a week for us. I approached it from the Arno Valley, and I didn’t recognise the area until I was close to San Girolamo. I remembered that Zia’s villa was on the other side of town, so I wouldn’t be passing it, and for the moment that was fine. Going back to the town would be difficult enough — the villa held even more memories for me.

I parked the car in the small parking lot outside the wall, which had an entrance to La Cisterna. The hotel still existed, but it had been changed, and, in a fit of madness, I had booked a room there. After I pulled into a free, shady spot I checked my messages. My in-box was empty.

“Oh Doctor,” I muttered, gathering my handbag from the passenger seat.

I made my way through the lush garden of the hotel where I’d spent many hours waiting for the Doctor. The gravel crunched beneath the soles of my sandals, and a waiter who had just served a middle-aged couple their coffees nodded at me, took my bag and showed me the way to reception. Apart from the decor, the hotel hadn’t changed much, even after the bombs. I broke out in goosebu,ps, and it wasn’t only because of the change in temperature as I entered the cool lobby from the heat outside.

“Buona sera, Signorina,” the concierge said merrily.

“Hello. My name is Rose Tyler,” I said, nodding at the waiter who had deposited my bag by the reception desk. “I have booked a room.”

After I’d filled in the usual paperwork, the concierge picked a key from the board behind him and preceded me up the stairs. They had done some minimal work, and we stopped on the second landing, at a door marked 184.

It was the room the Doctor and I had shared here, but it didn't feel right. The concierge unlocked the door, and then I saw what was different. Our room and the one Giorgia and Yoru had shared, facing each other and separated by a shared bathroom, had been merged into one suite. “Is this all right, Signorina? It is the only room left. It doesn’t come at any extra charge.”

“Yes,” I found myself saying, “it’s all right. Thank you.” I wasn’t sure if it was, though. The rooms had been changed, but the then-ancient bedstead was still there, with a new mattress, of course, and modern bedding. Also, a mosquito net had been added. Yoru’s room had been converted into a small parlour with a sofa, a telly and a small desk. The sofa was big enough to double as a bed, just in case.

After I refreshed myself a bit and had a snack in the shady garden, I went to the library. The whole time I’d stayed here in 1944 I’d wanted to go but had never gotten around to it. Now it was the reason I was here. It was now inside the renovated town hall. The hole that had been blown into the outer wall had been replaced with modern brick and whitewashed. There was a memory plaque just by the entrance, and as I stopped to study it, I froze. There, among names I didn’t recognise, were Yoru’s and Jonah’s names: Roberto Pagao, Giona Pagao.

Several people brushed past me and it took me a while to gather my senses. They were not forgotten, after all. I would never forget them, but it touched me deeply to see that even my unborn baby son had made the list of casualties. Who, I wondered, was responsible for this? And when had the plaque been added?

Tears welled up in my eyes. I was so touched by the gesture, so soon after my loss. Until now it had been unreal, but now there names were there, in brass, unerasable, forever. Real. My heart clenched. It had really happened. Of course it had. I dropped my hand to my stomach. Jonah’s absence reminded me every moment of what had happened.

Wiping my eyes, I turned away from the plaque. The church was directly opposite the town hall across the square. Of course, the town hall was the perfect site to remember the dead of the blast. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to enter the church, not even to see what it looked like without all the protective sheets and sand bags. It had only been a couple of weeks for me, not some sixty years.

I dug out my phone and took a picture of the plaque before I entered the cool building. The elderly lady at the desk, no doubt a volunteer, was very helpful when I enquired after material regarding the local resistance. It seemed that the topic was attracting renewed interest, though I had not idea why. Based on what that was, I had no idea.

“Salvo can help you with that topic, Signora,” the woman said.

I froze at the mention of the name until I realised that Salvo was a student worker. “Oh, yes. Brilliant.”

When she introduced us, Salvo looked as if he’d seen a ghost. The impression didn’t last long, however. Whatever it was, he brushed it aside quickly. I hoped that he hadn’t, through some coincidence, recognised me.

“What interests me most is the fate of one young woman,” I said. “I came across her name... in the personal account of... um... I forget his name.” I really should have come up with a better cover story. The Doctor might be able to get away with making it up as he went along, but I was not as skilled as he.

Salvo’s eyes lit up at a potentially new source. He was working on his doctoral thesis, so clearly he was drawn to new material like a moth to a flame. But then he gave me that curious look again, and the penny dropped. He must have recognised me from whatever material it was he had. I looked away, pretending to look around the room.

“I know you, don’t I?” he said. “Not... personally, I mean, but you seem so familiar.”

I smiled at him, that sorry little smile you give blokes in bars that you don’t really want to talk to.

“It’s uncanny, though,” he muttered. It was clear that he loved the challenge of putting the name to the face he had in mind.

“Well,” I said, flinching a little when I realised how much like the Doctor I sounded. Of course, I had given myself away.

“It’s not,” Salvo spluttered, “I mean... unless, of course, you’re one of their... granddaughters?”

That might work, I thought. I smiled enigmatically. My Italian was flawless, and I hadn’t told him my name yet. “Rosa,” I said.

“Pagao!”

I nodded.

“You’re her granddaughter? I’d wondered what became of Rosa after the bombing of the piazza,” he said enthusiastically. I stiffened a little. To him, it was a fascinating event, a chapter in history, long ago. Someone else’s tragedy. To me, it was very fresh and painful. “So she had children after she lost her husband and baby boy?”

I froze then. It was too much. “I... Would you show me...? I need the loo.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll see what I can find in the meantime. God, this is so exciting.”

I forced a smile. What had gotten into me to tell him that? It was my own fault. After he left me in the marble ladies’ I pondered not returning to the reading room, but I had come here because I needed to know about Giorgia. If I was lucky, I could get out of this with only the vaguest bit of information. It depended, of course, on what he knew about Rosa. “Dammit,” I cursed. I should have been more careful.

I freshened up a little and and made my face as impassive as I could. If I played Rosa’s granddaughter, Rosa, I might get away without breaking my own heart. Maybe it was my atonement. I had no idea what it was. But it seemed to be something I needed.

When I returned to the reading room, Salvo had spread a host of books and papers on one of the bigger tables. The library was empty so we could work without disturbing others.

The first thing he showed me was a photo of myself. I remembered Piero taking it, and it showed Zia, Giorgia and me on the patio. What had become of Zia? Of Giorgia? Had the Doctor found her by now? “That’s her,” I said, pointing at myself. I looked different. It was the first time I’d seen myself pregnant other than in the mirror and the Doctor’s sketches. It felt right to speak of her in the third person.

“What did she do after the liberation? Your grandmother?” Salvo asked, grabbing a pencil. “You don’t mind me taking a few notes, do you?”

No. It’s just that I’m making this up, I thought. “She eventually made her way to England after she’d met and fallen in love with a doctor of the RAMC,” I said. That was close enough, even if it was a doctor with a lower-case d. “She had my mum, and, well, here I am.”

“Good for her,” Salvo said. “You know, she’s always fascinated me. And I feel so horrible for her loss. Of course, she’s not the only one to have suffered, but... Anyway, it touched me deeply.”

I took a deep breath. I was very touched by this stranger’s sympathy, across the decades, no less. “She’d have appreciated that, thank you.”

“May I quote you? In my thesis?” He scribbled down something on his notepad after I’d nodded dumbly.

“Would it be okay if I had a copy of this photo?” I asked.

“I’ll make one straight away, but there’s more,” he said, pulling another volume towards him. There was a photo of Yoru and the Doctor. I gasped as I saw them together. They looked tired and unkempt, but there was also a fierceness about them, the will to survive, or the will to fight for what was right. I suppose in the Doctor’s case it was often the same thing.

“That’s Roberto, her husband,” I said, “and Giovanni.” My best friend and my husband. Aliens, both of them. Oh if you knew, Salvo.

“Giovanni who? All I know of him is his codename,” Salvo said, his eyes keen with interest.

“I... I don’t know. Granny only ever spoke of Giovanni, or Gio. What was his codename?”

“He must be L'Inglese, but I’m not sure. And Roberto, he was... Hang on, I’ve got it here somewhere.” He rummaged through his papers. “I can’t seem to find it now. Anyway. Another name that was mentioned along with their cell was La Lupa. I have no idea, however, who she was.”

“La Lupa?” I asked. I’d heard her name too. She was the link between the cell and Zia. It was probably Giorgia, although that didn’t seem quite right; Zia had mentioned La Lupa when Giorgia was away on a mission, a mission that was clearly more than just a quick messenger job.

“Oh, I’ll find out. I still have some documents to sort through,” Salvo said cheerfully. “But let me see what became of... Who did you say you were interested in?”

“Giorgia Guidotti,” I said. “From the Villa Guidotti. She was a nurse.”

“I’ve come across her name. Just give me a few minutes. God, this is so exciting!” he enthused again, going through his books and papers again.

I had never written a scholarly paper before, but I’d seen enough of the work process at the Lufana Observatory to know that he wasn’t very organised. Maybe he had just started work on his thesis, or he was the kind of person whose creative process tended to be a bit chaotic.

“Did you see the memorial outside?” he asked, ruffling through his papers.

“I did,” I said, but didn’t offer anything else. I wasn’t sure if telling him all this was a good idea.

“I’m sorry, Signorina, I can’t seem to find it now. How long will you be in town? I think that maybe I have some things back at mine. We could meet up here tomorrow?” he suggested, clearly crestfallen.

“I hadn’t made any plans,” I said truthfully. I’d come on a whim. I might drive up to the villa. It couldn’t hurt just to go past it, or even stop. There was no one there who’d remember me.

“Very good!” he cried. “I might also have some more questions. This is unexpected. It is okay if I ask you some?”

“I suppose so.” Who knew? Maybe this would turn out quite therapeutic. Painful, but therapeutic.


	3. Part 3

And life slips by like a field mouse

Part 3

I spent the remainder of the day walking around San Girolamo. The place had changed in the sixty years that had passed for the world, and yet much remained the same. It was difficult to explain. It was, however, surprisingly easy to walk around the piazza and revisit all the places I had frequented a matter of weeks ago. The only places that gave me a shiver and that I gave a wide berth were Signor Albertin’s shop — which was now a shoe shop — and the church. I would have liked to visit the church to see the beautiful frescoes, but the memories the place held were just too painful. I made it as far as the steps that led up to the piazzetta in front of the church, but I stood there for a long time, unable to climb them.

Dusk was fast approaching now that it was August, but that didn’t mean that people returned home, quite the contrary. Now as summer was winding down, the late afternoons cooled off significantly from the intense midday heat and people came out of their cool homes earlier to socialise in the squares and the countless bars and cafés. I felt a bit lost so I decided to return to La Cisterna for dinner. Back in 1944 we hadn’t gone out for dinner, and I didn’t feel particularly adventurous. The quiet patio of the hotel would do; the menu looked good, but when the waiter pushed my chair in for me, I suddenly didn't feel hungry any more.

I missed the Doctor. The idea that Time rather than Space separated us was almost too hard to grasp, even after all this time. I couldn’t stop wondering if he had found Giorgia yet. Although it was hard to imagine them sitting in the same patio where I was now, it was oddly comforting that we were in the same space, even if we were separated by several decades.

The waiter arrived with the menu and asked me if I was ready to order drinks. Feeling bold, I ordered a glass of red wine and some water. When he returned with my drinks he also brought a basket of fresh bread and some olive oil. I still hadn’t decided what I wanted to eat but, given my empty stomach, I knew I needed something solid if I didn’t want the wine to make me tipsy. I ordered bruschetta, my favourite.

Some of the patrons cast me curious glances. From what I could tell most of them were tourists, believing that I was here on business when they heard me open my mouth; of course, they were flustered by my looks. Most people still thought all Italians were dark. I smiled briefly at them, wishing I had remembered to bring a book. In my rush to leave I had forgotten all my books at the cottage on the beach. Now that I had returned to San Girolamo I also remembered the comfort Giorgia and I had derived from reading to each other, down by the holly oaks in the unkempt bit of the garden. I wondered if they were still there. The hammock was almost certainly gone, but I couldn’t imagine the copse of beautiful gnarled trees felled.

Maybe, I thought, sipping my red wine, I’d have to pay the villa a visit after all. What could it hurt? All the people I had known then were gone, and the memories I had of the place weren’t all that bad, thanks to Giorgia.

I couldn’t wait to meet Salvo the next day; hopefully, he’d have found out something about Giorgia and the mysterious La Lupa.

My phone hummed discreetly in the pocket of my jeans. They were one of the skinnier pairs I kept on the TARDIS, and they fit again now that I had lost so much weight. I wasn’t particularly happy about it, but I was glad I had kept them so I had something halfway decent to wear now. I fished the phone out of my pocket. The words “TARDIS calling” lit up the display, and I immediately hit the connect button. “Doctor?”

“Rose,” he said, relief lacing his voice. The thought that he hadn’t expected me to pick up the call killed the smile on my lips. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” I said. “What about you? Have you found Giorgia?”

“I have,” he said. “She’s with me.”

I closed my eyes. That sounded almost too good to be true. “Where are you?”

“Still in San Girolamo, at the villa,” he said.

“In 1944?” I asked, a shiver cooling the sweat between my shoulder blades.

“Yes,” he said.

“Doctor!”

“We’re quite safe here.”

“I don’t care!” I cried, startling the other patrons. They certainly hadn’t expected me to be so vocal, to say nothing of my perfect grasp of English. I lowered my voice, turning away from them. “You have to get out of there, Doctor, and pronto!”

He chuckled. He actually had the nerve to chuckle. “We will.”

“We? Has she agreed to go with you?”

“Well.”

I sighed. “I saw the memorial today. The one they’ve installed for the victims of... the bombing.”

“Oh.”

“Yoru’s and Jonah’s names are on the list.”

I could hear him hold his breath. “So you’re in San Girolamo,” he concluded.

I nodded.

“Rose?”

“Yes. I needed... I needed to be closer to you. Physically, at least. I know it doesn’t make sense. Don’t ask. Please, just don’t ask,” I pleaded with him, realising how silly I was being.

“No, I... I understand.”

“They have this memorial plaque, Doctor,” I blurted, the wine having loosened my tongue. “And they have renovated the town hall and La Cisterna. The holes in the walls... They’ve been repaired and rendered in white.”

“Like scars,” he said.

“Yeah.”

There was a brief pause. “I’m so glad you’re talking to me, Rose,” he said.  
“Doctor, I—”

“No, don’t worry, Rose. It’s okay. I... We need to talk when... When we’re back together. We will be back together?”

His insecurity and his pain pressed their stifling palms over my mouth and nose. “Of course we will, Doctor. I love you.”

He sounded choked when he replied, “Quite right too.”

“Doctor?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to say it. Unless,” I interrupted myself, shocking myself, “unless, of course...”

There was a brief pause. "I love you, iyo.”

The term of endearment, the single one that wasn’t true any more — he had to use it of all the other names we had for each other. At that moment I didn’t even begin to think that, despite himself, he had sneaked a peek at future time lines and seen... children. I only understood that later, as I lay, unable to go to sleep, in the vastness of the brass bed of room 184.

“Give Georgia my love. How is she?”

“I think she’s all right, but you know me. I wish you were here. You’re so much better at these things, my love,” he said.

“If she’s talking to you I think you’re doing quite well, Doctor,” I replied. The waiter appeared with a plate laden with several slices of bread, all of them piled so high with tomato salad that I’d need silverware to eat them. Suddenly, I felt ravenous. “When will you be back?”

“When you’re back at the English beach.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

He ended the call then and I looked at my phone in surprise. I certainly hadn’t expected him to hang up so quickly but given our exchange I had a fair idea that making the call hadn’t been easy for him to begin with. He had never been very good at phone calls. The word useless came to mind, and I smiled mildly. Of course, Giorgia had made him call me. I almost felt ashamed for how she and Fenia made him jump through hoops, but both of them knew him so well. He needed to pass all these tests for them and for himself.

Darkness had fallen as I returned the phone to my pocket and sipped my wine. I tucked into the bruschetta and thought, for the first time since our departure from 1944, that I might be able to find pleasure in simple things again. Eventually.

-:-

The diary had been tucked into the side of my bag and had slipped between folds of the lining and a heavy sweater I’d brought, just in case. I knelt on the polished hardwood floor, holding the black book in my hands, running my fingers along the elasitc that kept it closed. I knew exactly what it was. The Doctor must have sneaked it into my bag at some point.

The edges had worn smooth and round as he’d carried it around with him, and the pages were smudged with dirt. He’d already given it to me in 1944 but his drawings of me had thrown me so much that I had been unable to read the entries that went with it. I wondered why he was so adamant that I read his diary — it was very much unlike him to press me like this. He really must want me to understand him; he hadn’t reached that point yet where he could tell me exactly how he felt, so his diary had to do. I’d much rather he told me.

Then a terrible idea struck me: what if what he had to say was so terrible that there were simply no words for it?

I climbed to my feet, grabbed the black notebook and went down to the hotel bar. I seldom drank hard liquor, but I had a feeling it might be a good idea. Maybe I was just afraid of being on my own and of breaking down. If I was at the bar I’d not allow myself to fall apart.

I decided to have my drink — some fancy, mild grappa, the barman assured me — on the patio rather than indoors. The night was beautiful, and I wanted the scent of the garden around me; it had soothed me a lot after everything had happened, all those weeks and decades ago.

Sometimes I wish she hated me so I could go and know I don’t deserve her. It’d break her but at least then she could use the power of her rage against me to build the fantastic, brilliant life she deserves. In time she’d forget me and meet someone decent, someone who’s not full of blood and anger and revenge. Someone who doesn’t burden her with the grief he knows will come after she’s gone. I love her so much.

I stared at the words on the page. He had repeated some of them, highlighted them, scrawled them, drawn them. I had given him exactly what he’d wanted. I’d thought that we’d be all right. He had asked me if we’d be all right — and he’d left me willingly behind despite everything. Now I knew why.

One single thought paralysed me, and I wished I had ordered the most fiery grappa that they could legally offer. What if he never came back for me, thinking that I’d be better off without him?

No, he'd never do that, and I felt ashamed for even having that idea. He had given himself to me, body and soul, when we'd gotten married -- and he had given me the gift of his true name. The Doctor might be one to run, but he was desperate to learn how to face his demons. He did it for me.  
I stared at the words on the pages before me and the tattoo on the inside of my wrist. He bore my promise on his skin.

“Are you all right, signorina?” the waiter asked.

I looked up and stared at him.

“It’s just, you look a little pale. Was the grappa too strong for you?”

I shook my head. “It was too mild.”

He looked taken aback.

“I don’t suppose Father Carmello is still around?” I asked.

He blinked. “Yes. He lives at the monastery now, but I’m afraid to say that he suffers from dementia.”

“Oh.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, signorina?”

“Where is the monastery? I’d like to see him.”

He looked at me for a while, then he shrugged. He wrote the name and address down on his notepad, tore off the sheet and gave it to me. “He really isn’t coherent these days,” he said. “He’s ancient... He must be well in his nineties. Don’t expect too much.”

I smiled at him. “Would you bring me another of these, please?” I asked, trusting his memory to bring me more of what I’d already had.

“Of course.”

-:-

The brother in charge of the reception desk at the monastery gave me a hard look. The journey had taken me a little over half an hour. It was in a beautiful location on top of one of the tallest hills in the area, overlooking a valley where the silvery ribbon of a river cut a path into the distance. The old monastery, a pale building with bleached roofs and crumbling walls, sat amidst olive trees and vineyards.

“I am an old friend,” I said.

The brother’s gaze clearly indicated that he didn’t believe a single word of what I had said. I couldn’t blame him. I was far too young to be an old friend of an ancient man who was losing his memory. So I settled for the grandmother story I had given Salvo. That opened the gates for me, and another brother arrived after a little while to escort me to Father Carmello’s quarters.

“You are lucky, signorina,” he told me. “He’s having a good day.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you, brother.”

Father Carmello was still the tall, slender man I remembered him to be, and he sat very straight in his wicker chair on the terrace overlooking the valley. It was a cool, shady spot, and he turned to look at me as I approached him. His dark hair had gone white and his face showed his age, but his smile was the same when he recognised me. I hadn’t expected that at all, but I suppose that I was far enough removed in his history to be one of the clearer memories.

“Rose,” he said, his eyes lighting up as the haze around his mind lifted. When, I wondered, did people like him really meet the people they remembered, rather than the memory of them? It was a simple answer. Never. Unless, of course, time travel was involved.

“Father Carmello,” I said, taking his gnarled hands as he held them out for me.

“How are you?” he asked. I had no idea, of course, of what year he thought it was. It didn’t really matter. I was still raw. I decided to tell him that.

He nodded, his expression sad and solemn. “Giovanni is a good man, though,” he said. “You mustn’t lose your faith in him, Rose.”

I sighed. Then I told him about what he’d written in his diary. It felt good to put my thoughts into order and to try and make sense of his words.

“He loves you very much, Rose,” he said after I’d ended. “His words are harsh, but so are his feelings. He’s a very passionate man and he feels he deserves... well. He punishes himself.”  
“I have forgiven him,” I mumbled, unsure of what I had said after his return to the villa and the first night we’d spent in each other’s arms. I’d really thought, then, that we’d be okay.

“Have you told him that, cara?” he asked.

I had to admit that I wasn’t sure.

“It’s funny that you should turn up today,” he continued. “He was here... oh, my memory is so bad these days... a couple of days ago?”

I was surprised. “He was?”

“Yes, yes. He looked horrible, like you. He was here about Giorgia, but it was also about him. He’s a very clever man, your Giovanni, but he doesn’t really listen to his heart.”

“He chooses to be deaf when it comes to his own feelings,” Father Carmello said with a sigh.  
“I don’t suppose you can tell me what you talked about,” I said, my heart pounding.

“No, cara mia, that I can’t,” he said. “But I told him to listen to his heart. It might take him a while to learn how to do that. We also talked about poor Giorgia.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not quite sure I understand everything he said, but I know that things are complicated. I am very sorry for what happened. Have you decided what to do with Roberto’s and Giona’s bodies?” he asked.

I stared at him.

“Well?”

My voice broke as I said, “No.”

“You should, and soon. It’s far too hot.”

“Did Giorgia go with Gio? Do you know that? He knows a safe place for her,” I insisted.

“But we’ve been liberated now, Rose, we’ll be fine. There’s no need to run now,” he said in surprise.

We sat in silence for a while, enjoying the view.

“I’m so glad you came, Rose,” he said.

I smiled and covered his hand with mine. His skin felt cool and strangely waxen, but there was also a surprising softness to it. I was about to say that I was glad that he’d recognised me, but I bit my lip.

“The... Gio wrote in his diary that he wants me to hate him,” I said eventually. “I can’t do that. I love him.”

“You read his diary?”

“He gave it to me to read.”

“Looks like him. He’s a troubled man, your Gio. I wish I could give you better advice in the matters of the heart. He has lost his son and his best friend. Give him some time to come round. He feels very guilty. But he loves you so much, Rose,” he said. Father Carmello closed his eyes for a few moments, and I thought, Please don’t die on me now. But of course he didn’t. It was a silly and selfish thought. I stayed with Father Carmello for the better part of the morning. He invited me to stay for lunch but I declined.

“Be there for him,” he said. “I know it’s a lot to ask when one’s own heart is heavy, but it’ll be better with two.”

I blinked in surprise. He had echoed the words I’d said to the Doctor so many years ago. It was uncanny to be reminded of them by someone who hadn’t known us then.

Despite everything, the Doctor still loved me. He had this knack of rationalising things, of making decisions for others, and I feared that he’d make a decision, based on my slap and my wish to be by myself in the cottage by the North Sea.

-:-

I barely made it to my lunch appointment with Salvo, and my thoughts were still reeling, although Father Carmello had helped me a lot. I had to find a way to make the Doctor see how I felt without making him feel guilty about it.

Salvo was close to bursting with the news. We’d barely sat down at a small table in the far corner of the awning-covered patio when he opened the folder he’d brought to give me the papers and photos he had found. “I have fantastic news!” he announced proudly, his voice nearly breaking in the process. “I know who La Lupa is. It took me all night to find out and I even had to break into the library — a friend of mine is a student worker there — and... Well, it’s your grandmother! Rosa Pagao is La Lupa.”

I leaned back heavily. Of course. The TARDIS translated everything, so I’d never stopped to wonder about the meaning of the code names we had been given. The Doctor was L’Inglese, the Englishman, and I was La Lupa — the wolf. I laughed. It made perfect sense, and I had been the messenger.

Salvo frowned. The poor man didn’t understand what was so hilarious about his revelation. He had been so proud of his discovery. I decided that I’d answer all of his questions, as long as I didn’t give away too much information. He deserved it. He listened with the curiosity of an impartial scholar. If there was anyone who wouldn’t judge me, Yoru or the Doctor, it would be him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, sobering. “Your excitement is contagious. Did you find out anything about Giorgia Guidotti?”

His smile faded a bit. “I didn’t, I’m sorry. It’s as if she disappeared off the face of the earth after the bombing of San Girolamo.”

“Hmm. Maybe she wanted to start over again somewhere else, without the painful memories. Gran told me that Giorgia had fallen in love with her husband, Roberto.”

“Oh, that is... Well, interesting,” he replied. “Do you mind if I write that down?”

We ordered our meals and then he started to interview me. It was hard, at times, not to give away too much. He knew how to interview people, and he was an attentive listener. Talking to him about myself as if I were talking about my gran felt good, and I decided to return to the cottage as soon as possible. I had gotten what I’d come for. Now I needed to wait for the Doctor to come home.


	4. Part 4

Not shaking the grass.

Part 4

I went to the beach every day and sat in the sand. The gorgeous sun warmed the surface, but when I dug my fingers deep down they were gloved in icy coldness. It was, strangely, a pleasant feeling. There were a lot of people out enjoying the sunny days. Adults walked along the beach amid the cacophony of children flying kites, dogs fetching sticks and toys, and flocks of gulls squawking overhead. These days were a lot like the one several months ago when I’d told the Doctor I was pregnant.

Now I wasn’t, not any more, and as the days passed without the Doctor turning up I grew increasingly anxious. The Doctor hadn’t called me since that night in San Girolamo, and I began to fear that he was unable to forgive himself and return to me.

I knew that he still loved me, but what was keeping him from me were his guilt and shame. He kept saying in his diary that he wondered how he deserved me. It broke my heart. He was trying to open up to me, but his inked words only went so far. He needed to say them out loud to exorcise his demons. But he wasn’t ready for that yet.

For two days or so I was able to just watch the children play on the beach, but something inside me snapped in the afternoon of the third day and I fell apart. All of the children reminded me of Jonah. It didn't matter if they were boys or girls. I mourned my little son, knowing I'd never see him play like this, as a numbness took hold of me. I began to wonder if I’d ever see a child of mine running and laughing like those kids did. I hadn’t seen Dr Harris yet, so I had no idea if I’d be able to have any more children. What if…?

At some point I curled up in bed and drifted in and out of wakefulness as image after image, each one more upsetting than the last, flooded my mind, refusing me the rest and peace it needed. They sped around my brain like a toy train on a circular route, the wheels driving the images home as they hammered the tracks. Why wouldn't it just derail to give me a reprieve?

I only left the bed to drink and use the bathroom, but I found myself too weak to anything else. Besides, what was the point? There was no one to talk to, and since I had lost my appetite there was no need to go shopping. When I wasn’t dozing I lay staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling, finding patterns in the grain of the dark wood, waiting. For what I didn’t know. The Doctor, of course, but I understood that I might spend a long time waiting for him. I was sure that he had forgotten about Time; he could be completely oblivious to the passage of Time if he chose to.

I lost track of it as I lay in the bedroom. To this day I have no idea of how long I stayed in bed.

I remember very clearly, though, the moment I decided to live again.

I had reached for the diary on my bedside table and thumbed through it, my eyes travelling quickly over the well-known sketches as well as the ones I'd avoided because they were too painful to look at. They came to rest on an image I didn’t recognise. I missed it somehow. It was a drawing of him and Jonah and me. He was small enough to fit into the cup of my hands, where he lay curled up around Jonah, trying to protect him just like I protected them. He and Jonah were the same size, but Jonah was still the handful of baby he had been at his birth. At the same time, however, he had drawn me huddled into his beloved coat.

The Doctor needed me to protect him just as much as he needed to protect me.

“But we are like this, iyo,” I whispered, drinking up every detail of the pencil sketch. Why didn’t he see that when he could picture it?

-:-

I made an appointment with Dr Harris in London. Telling her about what had happened wouldn’t be easy, and I certainly couldn’t tell her what I’d told Salvo. It wasn’t necessary; telling Salvo had been the beginning of my healing process in that I’d started to try to understand what had happened. I didn’t have any illusions about coming to terms with my loss easily, at least not emotionally, but I had to start somewhere.

Dr Harris gave me a clean bill of health, telling me that she saw no physical reason why I shouldn’t be able to conceive again, but she encouraged me to take as much time as I needed. “You’ll know when you’re ready to try for a child again,” she said. “Don’t rush it and don’t be afraid. Be prepared for some awkwardness in bed, but do talk about it with your husband. I’m sure he feels a lot like you. Just don’t give up on each other, yes?” she said.

“When I’m ready.”

“Of course, Rose. Only ever when you’re ready. Both of you.”

-:-

I had bought a blank book in London, and when I returned to the cottage I started to work through the texts and photos Salvo had given me. I didn’t want the dry, scholarly texts. I wanted the lives behind them, the memories, so I photocopied them at the village post office, cut them up and put them back together again in a way that would tell the story my way, to preserve the memory of Jonah and Yoru. I also made copies of some of the Doctor’s sketches and rearranged them so they fit the picture I was creating. I’ve never been very good at storytelling, much less at drawing, but I loved making collages. Mum had taught me how to make them, and we’d spent many a Sunday afternoon putting together our dreams. My “wedding photo” had been among the papers I’d packed up before… before things happened.

My wedding — our wedding — had been so different, so much more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed, and my heart had broken when I found the photo at our old flat. Mum hadn’t had a chance of keeping it; worse yet, she hadn’t been there for the real thing, which still upset me. I would have so loved for her to give me away. I added a bit of colour with the coloured pencils I’d picked up at the post office as well. Before I knew it the table in the minuscule dining room was covered in scraps of paper and the tools of my trade.

I found the fountain pen Zia had given me, along with the utensils for repairing books I had picked up in San Girolamo. I felt ambivalent about them. They had given me something to do and I had enjoyed working with the books, but the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment was tainted somewhat by the knowledge of how I had come by them. A traitor, a collaborator, a fascist had charmed me and got them for me in a war-deprived town. I should have known that there was something rotten about it, but I guess I felt like you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth in wartime. I think I also wanted to believe that those around me were all on the same side. No one had said anything when I’d told them about it, but I was sure that I had detected a hint of disappointment in the Doctor’s eyes.

I put the tools away and only used the fountain pen Zia had given me. Holding it again felt like homecoming in a way, and although I was a bit reluctant at first to add my thoughts to the Doctor’s in the book the words soon flowed onto the page on the back of the golden nib. In this way I filled spread after spread, and by the time it had grown dark enough that I had to switch on the light, I had made six double pages.

I was exhausted and my back and shoulders were hurting, but I felt a bit lighter.

-:-

The Doctor found me on the beach. I was unable to cry when his tears began to fall. He just stood there in his Ruulim clothes, looking very lost. I went towards him, my heart much like the small bird’s I once rescued, and wrapped my arms around him. There were few people on the beach. It was late on a Wednesday afternoon, and it hadn’t been as sunny lately.

He smelled of dust and sweat and Lufana.

I didn’t say a word as he cried. I just stood there and held him, wondering for how long I could stay strong for him.

-:-

Giorgia stayed in Lufana. When Salvo had told me that it seemed as if she'd disappeared off the face of the earth, I'd been unsure what to make of it, but when I asked the Doctor about her, he told me that she was still in Lufana, and now I understood. She wanted to stay there for a while, but I knew then that she’d never leave. I suppose he knew too.

“Have you forgiven yourself?” I asked him one night. We were lying in bed, holding each other. There had been a bit of kissing and a lot of hugging, but nothing more. Neither of us was ready for anything more.

“No,” he said. “Have you?”

“I think so.”

“Rose?”

“Yes, my love?” I needed him to know that I still loved him, but the words didn’t come easily. They felt awkward because I was afraid that he’d resent himself even more in the face of my unconditional love for him. So the endearment had to be enough.

“Do you ever break?”

I tensed. “I am broken, Doctor. I’m only human.”

“We’re alike, you and me.”

“In a way, yes.” You weren’t there when I broke, I wanted to say. I was by myself, I fought my demons by myself. You have my arms to turn to. Anger welled up inside me and tears pricked my eyes. We lay in the darkness and he couldn’t see.

“Have you forgiven me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

-:-

The Doctor and I were taking a walk on the beach one day long after we'd stopped counting them. We had woven our fingers together and our palms were touching. We stopped every now and then to kiss or just contemplate the birds or the waves. The Doctor had finally learned to be quiet, or maybe just to relax and not feel like he has to be moving all the time. I think he enjoyed it, relished it even.

“Thank you for giving me the diary,” I said at one point.

He turned his head to look at me.

“In my darkest moments I wished I’d fallen through the Void,” I continued.

His lips tightened into a thin line. It was a painful truth, but it was something I had to tell him. Many a day when I’d been by myself I’d wished Mum were there to comfort me with her wisdom and her tea. I needed him to know this not because I was hurt by him wishing I would hate him, but because I wanted him to know that I wasn't better than he, that we were more alike than he knew. In a way I was a burden to him because I was mortal, and the children we’d have would be mortal. We’d weigh him down, slow him down, but I knew that was exactly what he wanted. He’d been there for the universe. It was time for the universe to pay him back.

“Thank you,” he said after a while, “for telling me this.”

“I can’t imagine life without you.”

“You’d do well,” he said.

“Probably. But I wouldn’t really live,” I replied, “because you’d not be there.”

He smiled and bent to kiss me. “I don’t want you to hate me. Just…” He looked around, searching for words. His eyes found the kites dancing on the gusts of the wind. “Just tug on my kite string when it’s necessary. Tell me when to stop.”

We continued on our walk.

“I’ve made something while you were away,” I said. “A book about San Girolamo. I found out a few things about us. About the Resistance.”  
“Oh?”

I told him about Salvo and the interview I’d given him. The Doctor listened attentively. He frowned a little at my tampering with time, but he didn’t really object. After all, he had done the same thing by taking Georgia to Lufana so she could get to know her lover’s home.

“Can I see it?”

“Yeah.”

Again, we walked in silence for a while.

“You knew I was La Lupa,” I said.

“Yes. From the start.”

“Hmm. What was Yoru’s code name?”

“Galileo.”

“Fitting,” I said, smiling. Dear Yoru. “He loved me.”

“I know.”

“I miss him. So much.”

-:-

The TARDIS door opened with its familiar squeak, and I was met with a wave of heat that brought with it the scent of grass and herbs. A light breeze carried the sounds of crickets mixed with the rustling of tall grass, and in the distance I could hear the tinkling of wind-chimes. Images of Sho filled my mind, its cloister and the Doctor working in the garden, or sitting in his favourite chair in the loggia, reading. I gasped. Despite all the time that had passed since we were last here, and the blindfold covering my eyes, I knew exactly where we were.

“You... this is... Why...” I took a tentative step forward, feeling for the support of the TARDIS door frame. When we had left the cottage this morning it had felt like the right thing to do. Our time there had been up, and we’d decided to return to life in the TARDIS.

“It’s Ruul,” he said softly behind me. He took my left hand and squeezed past me. Once outside in the heat, he put my old straw hat on me and made me take him by the crook of his elbow. The brittle grass was, still – again? – , unexpectedly soft beneath my bare feet. I laughed, adjusting the hat.

“It’s home,” he added, his voice a little softer.

This time, I didn’t object. Ruul was our home now.

Before I had a chance to pick up on that, he said, much more cheerful, “Come on!” I touched his guiding arm to be able to keep up with him as he bounded away from the TARDIS, and towards the tinkling sound. I felt a shadow fall on us, and a mat of rushes beneath my feet.

“This isn’t Lufana,” I said.

“No,” he replied. He let go of me, and was out of reach when I stretched my arms out for him.

“Doctor?” I asked, ready to take off the blindfold, despite his earlier instructions. I’d indulged him when he’d asked me if it was all right for him to surprise me.

“Ah!” he cried, admonishing me, his voice so close that it sent shivers down my spine. I immediately dropped my hands to my sides. “Open your mouth,” he said, his lips up against my ear and I shivered again. I did as he said, and was rewarded with a piece of trimullo. How I had missed the taste! I hummed in delight.

“That good?” he asked, his voice now distant again.

“Oh yes,” I sighed.

“Come and join me,” he said, dropping his voice a notch. I felt pleasure shoot to my womb and I swallowed. I hadn’t felt desire for him in a long time, always afraid of making love. I also wasn't sure, sometimes, if I like the control he could wield over me. Nevertheless, I took a step towards him, puzzled by the playfulness in his voice. I hadn’t seen him like this in far too long, and I wondered, this time in earnest, what had brought on the mercurial shift in his mood.

The flapping of fabric caught me off guard as a sudden gust of wind swept over and around me.

“Don’t worry, it’s just the wind,” he said gently.

I reached out, and took another tentative step towards him. I smiled, and put my foot onto soft linen. What was this place? We were still outside, probably in the middle of Nowhere. Ruulim Nowhere. Another step, and another, very small, and then I touched his soft, crazy hair. I laughed. He took me by the wrist and pulled me down to him. I sat on a cushion, and he immediately rewarded me with a kiss.

“Can I take off my blindfold now?” I asked.

“Do you remember that night in Barracan?” he asked.

How could I ever forget that?

I nodded.

“I’d like to... repay you for it. Is that all right?”

Again, I nodded. I was ready for him. For us.

“But there’s a catch,” he continued.

“Oh.”

“For every piece of food, for every sip of water or wine, I want you to take off one piece of clothing,” he said. His voice came from several places, very close and quite distant, his breath feathering, cool, over my heated skin, or his lips nearly brushing my ear. “Can you do that?”

“I’m hungry,” I replied. “What happens when I have nothing left to take off?”

“Ah,” he smiled, running his tongue around the shell of my ear, “Then you can move on to removing mine.”

I swallowed, the pleasure in my womb pooling damply between my legs. Instead of an answer, I parted my lips, and was rewarded with a grape. I took off my hat, nearly expecting him to tell me to leave it on. The breeze was cool on my skin where the headband had been.

“Kinam’sati,” he whispered, touching my lips with his fingers. They were coated, I noticed as my tongue darted out, with my favourite sweet spread. I sucked them into my mouth, and I heard him moan as I swirled my tongue around his fingers.

“Doctor...” I began. It had been a while. I wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Rose...” he replied. “Take off your blouse.”

I did. I was glad to get rid of the thing. It was much too warm. He fed me more of my favourite Ruulim food, and I could have cried with joy at every new treat he presented to me to taste or lick off his fingers. The flavours washed over my tongue and dribbled onto my skin, bringing back memories, and stripping both of us naked. I realised that we were becoming the couple we’d been when we left Ruul nearly two years earlier. We had returned for Fenia and Tayar’s wedding of course, but we had not been able to visit when the twins were born, nor when Yoru was installed as Director in Setiu’s place.

“Take off your blindfold,” the Doctor said as he teased my lips with another grape.

I blinked into the brightness of the Ruulim kitallun. I wanted to laugh because the Doctor looked rather silly, his skin pale in the shade of the tarpaulin under which we sat in the midday heat, his cock as hard as ever as he knelt opposite me. Another shudder coursed through me, but I was unable to formulate a coherent thought.

“This is me,” he said, his voice breaking, finally. “Asking you to love me.”

My heart clenched.

“But I do,” I whispered.

“You do?” he asked, barely audible over the tinkling over the wind-chimes dangling from the centre of the canopy.

I nodded. “I love you.”

“Rose, I...” he began. “I... I’m so sorry for what happened. Can you forgive me?”

“You fed me, Doctor, and I trusted you, blindly. And you have to ask?” I replied, softly. I had forgiven him a long time ago. His need for reassurance broke my heart.

“I...” he began. Rising to my knees and moving towards him, I took his hand and placed it over my sex. His eyes went wide as he felt the wetness there.

“Of course I forgive you, Doctor,” I said. “Semrath ngudia tu ki faro?”

-:-

It was our second anniversary, and we might never have seen it. There had been moments when I was close to hating him. But all that was forgiven. “I love you, Doctor. So much.”

I took his cock, stroked him, and he dropped his head at first, face wet with tears, then tilted it back, taking in a sharp breath. “Ngudia’sa lam su mich’t,” I whispered. “Avitanon-sa.”

“Never ever,” he repeated, “will I doubt your love for me.” It wasn’t the proper way to go about things, but I had to do it if I wanted him to believe me.

I brushed my finger over the head of his cock, brushing away the drop of moisture that had built there. “I forgive you, Doctor.”

Tears were streaming down his cheeks now.

“I can’t make love to you when you’re crying,” I said, sitting back.

“Please, Rose,” he said, wiping the tears away angrily. “Please, I need you.”

“Yes,” I said. We hadn’t made love since we’d lost Jonah, but now, suddenly, the need to be one with the Doctor again was almost overwhelming, and it was as if we’d never been afraid of taking that step.

His tears mingled with his sweat as I took hold of him again and stroked him before moving to straddle him. I lowered myself slowly onto his lap, drawing out the pleasure for both of us. I’d never doubted we’d make love again, but when he dug his fingers into my flesh I realised that he had. “Ngudia sam,” he sighed.

“Ngudia’sa lam su mich’t,” I repeated. “Avitanon-sa.”

His forehead dropped to rest on my shoulder. I cradled his head to me with one hand, while with the other I sought purchase on his slick back. “Make love to me, Doctor,” I whispered, rocking and rotating my pelvis against him. Eventually, he began to meet my movements with gentle upwards thrusts. He set a slow rhythm at first, but it gained power as I whispered to him how much I loved him and that I forgave him.

He moved forward, supporting my back as he lowered me into the cushions, licking the traces of spilt wine off my skin as he moved lazily within me. I lifted my hands above my head, clutching the fabric as he picked up the rhythm. I arched into him as he drove into me, powerfully yet reverently, moaned as he cupped my breast and bent to nibble at its stiff point. He gasped as I reached between us to touch myself, and before I knew it I was keening his name as my orgasm washed over me in the midst of the canopied oasis. The breeze was cool on my slick skin, and it took me a while to even out my breathing.

“You’re so beautiful, Rose,” he whispered, dipping his fingers into my mouth, withdrawing and brushing his damp fingers down my throat, over my sternum, and across my stomach to where we were still joined.

“Come for me, Doctor,” I said, drawing him down for a kiss. “Savira’ra, ngarthu sam.”

And he did. He held me tight as our bodies slid against each other, his eyes clenched shut, his jaw set. He tried to control himself, but then I touched his temple and he finally let go. He cried out as he spilt into me, his words a strange mixture of Gallifreyan and Ruulim. The power of his climax pulled me over the edge again, and I bucked against him as his pleasure rippled through both of us.

He collapsed into my arms, his body solid and welcome as I broke our link. Even his hair was slightly damp as I drew my fingers through it in an attempt to help him calm.

Afterwards, he helped me clean up, and then he kissed the inside of my wrist, where his name was tattooed into my skin. “I love you, Rose Tyler. I haven’t always been a good husband, but I promise you, I’ll always be there for you, ngudia sam.”

I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

“You’ve taught me to stay, Rose,” he continued. I propped myself on my elbows. He was kneeling next to me, fingers twisted into the towel with which he cleaned us up. “I have another surprise for you. If you’d like to see it, that is. I... know I kind of tricked you into coming here. So if you d–”

I touched his lips with my fingers. His eyes went wide. “I wouldn’t have let you blindfold me if I didn’t trust you, would I?”

He ducked his head. Then he looked up, releasing the towel. “I have bought Sho,” he said.

I looked at him, my fingers dropping from his lips.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Rose,” he continued, grasping my hand where it was resting against the damp hairs on his thigh, “it’s that life slips by you if you aren’t careful. I am a Time Lord, Rose. I want to cherish every moment with you. I want to be at Sho with you as often as possible. If you want. It’s yours. I’ve taken your home, I want to give it back to you.”

I was speechless for a beat or two. “But you are my home. Don’t you realise that, you silly old Time Lord?” I didn’t use the Gallifreyan endearment on purpose. “But I thank you.”

“I... I have thought about what you said, Rose,” he continued, barely pausing to take in what I’d said. “And I’d very much like to have children. With you. I couldn’t imagine a better place than Ruul for our children to grow up. It’s the place where I was... am happiest.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you marry me?” I asked in Ruulim. It was traditional, on anniversaries, to renew the vows.

And renew them we did.


End file.
